Burns
by Forgotton Angel
Summary: Pansy Doesn't Know If she Can Live Without Her Prince.


**Disclaimer:** I am not JKR, rich, or blonde. Therefore, I own nothing. HP belongs to WB JKR, an various others, but not me.

AN: This is told from Pansy's POV. Flashbacs in italics.

I sit upon the rug within my mansion, the tears falling freely now. Mother and Father are gone, both in Azkaban after the fall of the Dark Lord. Perfect Potter defeated him, and now he remains nothing but dust. The Golden Trio survived, but then again, I always knew they would. Good beats Evil, blah, blah, blah.

I fought in the Final Battle. I put up the best fight I could, but I knew we would lose. When I was younger, mother would tell me stories of princesses who were fair and right and good. The perfect girl. My mother always told me that I was just like them, perfect and good in every way. A bitter laugh escapes my throat. I am anything but good and just. I have the blood of innocent muggles, filthy mudbloods, and blood-traitors alike. The blood stains my hands, and I will never truly be rid of it. The guilt consumes me, eating me up from the inside.

But that is not who I cry for. It is not for the Dark Lord, for my parents, or for the lives that I took. It is for my Prince.

_"Pansy, be quiet!" he whispers the words softly into my ear, his warm breath tickling my ear._

_"Where are we going?" I ask, my eyes twinkling with delight._

_His piercing silver orbs stare into mine, and goose bumps rise upon my flesh._

_"That would ruin the surprise, my little flower."_

_He grabs my hand and brings me through the winding path of his home, until we meet a white doorway. _

_"Close your eyes, Flower," He whispers._

_When I open them, my mouth hits the floor in shock. The moonlight brightens the lake beyond his home, creating a breath-taking glow. A picnic meal lays on the veranda, but I'm not looking at the food. I only have eyes for my beloved. Everything shimmers, including his eyes, and I know that I am dreaming._

_I never want to wake up. I hold myself closer to him so that I can grasp the dream for as long as I can. His lips meet mine. I do NOT want to wake up._

_"Draco," I gasp, "It's lovely."_

The salty tears travel down my cheeks. Where am I without Draco, without my beloved?

I remember the Final Battle well. How can I not? The image is burned into me with all the feelings that go beside it. I remember the flash of green before my shrieks met the air, and before the Earth stopped spinning. All that was left were those cold, stormy eyes...

_"I love you, Pansy, but I have to do this. I have to stop Potter!"_

_"Then you're mad if you think that you're leaving without me!"_

_"You can't go!"_

_"And why the bloody hell not!"_

_"Because I love you."_

_"That's why I have to go."_

I pull on a sweater without a glance to the mirror. The only one that I ever wanted to impress is long gone. I need to escape; I need to see him.

_"Pansy, no matter what happens, I love you." He tells me this the night before we leave._

_"I love you too." The words are choked, strained. My tears won't allow anymore._

His tombstone is decorated with pansies. It was supposed to signify that we would never be apart, but we are. He's so far away, and I never imagined that it would hurt this bad. I never knew that it would kill me from the inside.

_"So, this is goodbye, Parkinson?" _

_"I suppose it is, Malfoy."_

_It was our goodbye. Goodbye to our love, memories, lives. I remember when we had first kissed, first confessed, first made love. Those memories crashed around me now, and everything was wrong, wrong, wrong! It wasn't supposed to be like this. Not this hard, this hurtful. But it was. _

_  
He thinks I don't see the tears in his eyes, but I do._

_"I love you, Draco."_

_"And I love you more than words can say."_

I was always the Slytherin Princess, and Draco Malfoy was my Prince. But a princess is nothing without a prince. This is what I have learned. I never knew that love could hurt this badly, but it does. The feeling of emptiness and loss are killing me inside. This hurt, this pain, burns worst than the hottest fire. Because now, all I can feel is the burning pierce of his stormy eyes, and the emptiness within them. All I can feel is the cold burn.


End file.
